I don't care
by MysticJaden
Summary: Voldemort is finally dead and people can move on. Short fic from Harry's view.


_I don't own Harry Potter! _

Funny, how time works. I don't seem to remember my first steps. My first words. The faces of my parents. I can't remember my first ice cream, first clothes nor my first favourite food. Yet, I remember the exact second I was born.

It was when Tom Riddle drew his last breath. The pale man fell backwards, both his eyes and mouth were open in terror and shock. I felt the my wand, that slick piece of wood what saved my life countless times, slip through my fingers to the ground. It made a sharp noise in the deafening silence. That's when I realised.

It's all over.

The horror my life was to this point has ended. The nightmare that made me who I am right now, the monster who had me in his mouth, chewing has finally let me go, it's sharp teeth no longer cutting my flesh.

The Death Eaters, Voldemort's servants fell to their knees, letting the Aurors bind them. They lost their Master, the God. They were fallen angels. Dark angels. Ants, more likely. They were the most ruthless criminals in the country.

I didn't care.

The first voice I heard was the one I loved more than life itself.

"Harry?"

Yes. Her.

She walked right behind me and put her hand on my shoulder. I turned to her, my eyes glazed over, not even seeing her. I felt the tips of her fingers touching my cheeks.

I felt foolish. Was I this miserable? I didn't plan ahead. I never thought I will live this day. I thought I'll die.

Funny. Yes, the only word I could describe how I felt. My family lived. My enemy died. I should be happy.

I turned back to the man who made my life living hell. The body just lay there, eyes still wide. I slowly walked up to him and watched his face.

What did I saw? I don't know. Like a rabbit walking curiously into the wolf's mouth, I just walked around him I finally saw him for what he was. A pathetic little man. A sheep wearing a beast's skin. A snowflake in winter, not bigger nor smaller than the others.

That's what I saw. A man. A human. Not a God. Not a demon. A man.

That made me a murderer. I am the rule: a mortal human who took the life of another. Yet I didn't feel like one. I expected to feel empty, like a bottle of glass, no matter how full it is you can still look through it. The morphed. unnatural way of being empty. I wasn't.

I looked at the others. The ones I fought for.

And it hits me.

How big a hypocrite I am.

Who did I fight for?

For the others to live? For the community's good? Am I really a knight in shining armour, the saviour? And angel surrounded by demons?

No, definitely not. I fought for myself. For me to live.

I'm a bastard. I'm a fiend. I don't care.

I want to be happy. I want to be with those I saved. I want to stay with them, love them, help them. I want it. That's why I live. That's why I kill.

I tear my eyes from the corpse once again and walk back to my wand. My instrument of death. My gun. My sword.

I pick it up and savour the sight like my first meal in a five star hotel. My senses almost hug and cuddle the wood and I smile. The wand does choose it's wizard. It chooses whose magic it'll channel, who it'll help. And this one choose me.

I don't see the Death Eaters anymore. I don't see anyone anymore. They went away. To scream the news.

I won. He lost. I'm alive. He's dead.

Only three stayed. Ron, my mate, my brother. He smiles at me kindly, just as he did when we first met. He's full of scars and there's a huge gaping hole in his right leg, stitched together by my spells. He's all broken and bloody. And he's smiling.

Ginny. My friend and sister. The small little angel all grown up and alive. She's a woman now. You know, when you hand you're small kitten to your neighbour when you go on a vacation and when you get back it's a fully grown adult? That's Ginny. It feels like it was yesterday when she was a first year. And she's smiling.

And her. The one I love and cherish. The one I wanted to be with from day one. The girl I live for, who I killed for. Who I became a murderer for with a grin on my face. Hermione Granger. She is my angel and valkyre, the light at the end of the tunnel.

And she's smiling. It was all worth it.

Now that I think about it I should feel bad. I killed. Destroyed countless lives just to save myself. Sirius... Mum, Dad... they died to save me. For me to live. And now I'm here.

What now?

Should I ask Hermione's hand in marriage? Should I move into Grimmauld? What should I do?

What is a murderer good for?

I shake my head. Voldemort deserved to die. And it was my job to put him down.

Like an empty jar slowly filling with warm tea, the feeling fills me. I'm proud. I'm happy. No longer empty.

Hermione walks to me and hugs me. She's a blanket, and I'm the small child under it, grabbing as much of it as I can. My senses are invaded, I smell her, hear her small breaths, feel her against me. I dug my face into her thick locks and I take a deep breath. I don't cry. She does.

Why, I wonder. We are all alive and well. No one died. Why then?

But... maybe that's it. The huge gaping hole, the canyon in our souls disappeared. The four children faced with tasks unimaginable, triumphed. The ants finally carried the picnic basket into the hole. And now we're done.

Hermione's happy... which means I am happy.

I let her scent take over me. I close my eyes but I can still tell that Ron and Ginny left. This is my world. And hers.

She's my drug. Like a curse or a jinx straight to the head. An Imperius takes over me without her casting the spell. I no longer control myself as I taste her lips. I savour it like golden honey dripping down my chin. We are one and not two anymore. Cells, not dividing but unifying in a dance of bodies and tongues. We leave the graveyard behind. I see no path before me, no corridors no steps, nothing, only her. And we are finally in our dorms.

And I don't let go.

*

I am standing here now, in front of the mirror. I saw no hero. No saviour. I see a dignified murderer.

But I don't care.

I fix my robes again. Ron sits behind me with a magazine in his hands and off-handily talking with Neville. My Best Men. Right now Hermione is waiting for me at the altar. Apparently in wizarding culture the bride waits for the groom. All of my family and friends are here for my wedding. People I saved. Who could thank their lives to me. A boy. I'm a selfish bastard. But I don't care. Not anymore.

We are ready to go. I have to apparate to an exact spot. I do so with ease and find myself in the presence of the most beautiful being in the world. I see no clerk. No family nor friends. This is her day. Our day. The angel and the murderer. I don't even glance at the crowd. I'm a selfish bastard.

Yet...

...I don't care.


End file.
